


Sansa In Charge

by BookPirate



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, SanSan Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 20:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookPirate/pseuds/BookPirate
Summary: It's Sansa's birthday and Sandor has plans. Of course Sansa has some ideas about that.Written for the SanSan Christmas in July Secret Santa for theflirtmeister on tumblr!





	Sansa In Charge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheFlirtMeister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFlirtMeister/gifts).



> Hope you enjoy theflirtmeister!
> 
> Prompt was "Sansa in charge", which is why it's the title. Also because I'm super uncreative :/

Sandor knows he’s a lucky guy. He wakes up and counts his lucky stars and does the same before going to sleep, when he remembers. If he could tell his six-year-old self this is where he’d end up, he wouldn’t believe it. But honestly, if he had to pick the weirdest part of it all, it’s how little he’s scared he’s going to lose it.

Maybe it has to do with the way he knows he’s worked hard for everything he has. He’s really good at his job, and works for a man he trusts. He might not be best friends with his coworkers, but he knows they respect him. He has a nice house that he’s paid off in full, and a dog that’s so well behaved people ask him in the park where he got it trained. And then, of course, there’s Sansa.

Sansa Stark, the little bird who he watched turn into the wolves her ancestors once were. He wanted to save her, and then she saved herself. They became friends, and then they were more.

Maybe he should be more afraid she’s going to wake up one day and realize she doesn’t want to be tied down with an ugly old dog, but he knows her well enough to recognize she’d rather die than do something she didn’t want to ever again.

But he’s still more than appreciative she’s decided he’s the person she wants to be with. Which is why he’s trying to pull out all the stops for her birthday dinner.

Not on her actual birthday, of course, since it’s on a Saturday and that’ll be reserved for the typical Stark family barbeque they throw for her every year, with family, friends, good food, and iced beers. It won’t be the first time he’s gone, but it will be the first time he’ll go as Sansa’s boyfriend.

So, just in case he somehow manages to fuck it up, he's made reservations for them at the fanciest Korean restaurant in town, since Sansa really loves kimchi. Then, after dinner, he’ll take her by her favorite bakery to pick up some freshly baked lemon squares before heading home for a movie. He would’ve insisted they go to the theater, but Sansa recently confessed to him she prefers watching movies when she’s cuddled up to him, and he really doesn’t want to scar any innocent bystanders if they start getting handsy, which is a very real possibility.

“Sandor, this is amazing.” Sansa is inhaling the food almost as fast as it’s being put down.

He’s trying not to laugh, but it’s pretty cute how she’s relaxed around him. “I told you not to forget your lunch today, little bird.”

She looks a little guilty as she puts her chopsticks down. “It’s not that I forgot to bring it.”

He does smile at that. “So, you brought it but you didn’t eat it?”

“I had back-to-back meetings this afternoon, and then we were going over papers concerning the Walton case and before I knew it my alarm was ringing to leave.” She gives him a sheepish smile of her own. “I ate breakfast, though!”

“I know, because I made it.”

She laughs, a little sheepishly. “Right.”

He knows he did good, because her shoulders are relaxed and she keeps giving him warm smiles with bright eyes. He watches her with a smug sense of satisfaction as she finally pats her stomach and slumps back in her chair with a sigh.

“Good?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes a little. “You know this is my favorite restaurant. Thank you.”

He brushes his foot against hers. “Happy birthday, little bird. I hope it’ll be a good one.”

“It already is,” she says earnestly.

His heart warms at that, so of course he has to change the subject. “So, anything else you want to do?”

“Why are you asking? I know you have plans.” It's her turn to nudge her foot against his.

“Nothing that can’t be changed. I thought we’d stop by Miss Lem’s and get you some of those lemon squares, and then go home and watch Pride and Prejudice or something else you like.”

Her eyes light up. “A movie at home?”

“Just so we don’t scandalize the other movie-goers.” He winks at her.

Her mind must’ve gone a few steps further than that, because she sits up a little straighter and takes a sip of her drink. “Would we scandalize them?”

He smirks, the air between them shifting. “I was hoping you’d be familiar with birthday sex, Sansa.”

“I’ve heard the term.”

“It sounds like you’ve done more than heard.”

“Well,” she says slowly, “there is something I’ve kind of been wanting to try.”

His eyebrow raises before he can think about it. “Like what?”

She has a near-perfect poker face, but he knows her well enough to see the beginnings of a blush at the tips of her ears and across the bridge of her nose. Her tongue darts out to wet her top lip as she sets her drink down. “I think it would be interesting if I was, you know, in charge.”

“Interesting?”

Her blush deepens imperceptibly. “What would you call it, then?”

His answering smirk is a slow stretch of pure lust across his face. “Hot.”

She has a sharp intake of breath, and yeah, he can tell she’s feeling it as much as he is. Her foot makes a long stroke up his leg from his ankle to his knee. “You want to pay?”

He almost chokes on his tongue. “Yeah, I really do.”

* * *

Until Sandor had brought the whole thing up at the restaurant with his stupid, sexy smirk, Sansa honestly hadn’t given it a lot of thought. Really, it was all Margaery and Arya’s fault, because of all the 50 Shades of Grey memes in the group chat recently.

Not that Sansa thinks 50 Shades is sexy, not even a little bit. But the idea of being tied up? Or tying someone up? Sansa might’ve had to splash some cold water on her face in the break room after thinking a little too hard and long about it.

So to have Sandor tease her about something special she’d want to do in bed, mere hours after the memes in the group chat? There’s only one way her brain was going to go. She’s just glad to finally be with someone she’s comfortable enough to indulge those fantasies with. Being with Sandor makes her feel safe and cared for, and loved in the way she wants to be. Where she’s not a possession or something to show off. To Sandor she’s just Sansa, his girlfriend.

“Ready when you are,” Sandor calls from the other room, knocking her from her thoughts.

She quickly double-checks that her corset is laced properly, loose just enough to make her comfortable while still tight enough to make her feel sexy. She’d considered thigh-highs and heels, but it  _ is  _ her special birthday sex, after all. She feels better without them.

She does swipe on some smokey eye, though, and red lipstick. Just because she knows exactly how she looks in them.

Sandor definitely notices, if the bob of his Adam’s apple is anything to go by.

A calm settles over her, whatever nerves she had disappearing at the sight of Sandor, sitting up in bed completely naked, looking at her with such open and honest want. The stretch of muscle covered in a smattering of tattoos and scars, hair in all the best places has her mouth watering.

She smirks at him, the same way he does at her on the nights were she can’t think about anything other than his mouth on hers.

Her voice is smooth. “Last chance to back out.”

“Should we have a safe word?”

She takes some satisfaction in the hoarseness in his voice. “How about you tell me to stop, and I’ll listen?”

He nods, looking at her intently as she approaches slowly. “I brought out my least favorite ties.”

She strokes the flimsy fabric that he’s loped around the headboard. She carefully ties his wrist with the easy slipknots she remembers from girl scouts. Something that’ll keep him tied until he really, really tugs. “If I leave your feet untied, will you still listen to me?”

“Yes.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you should say Ms. Stark.”

“Yes, Ms. Stark.”

A shiver races down her spine, but she manages to suppress it. The heat from his gaze, however, goes straight to lower in her stomach and between her thighs. She strokes his arm a little, marveling at the tightness of his muscles, before stepping back from the bed.

She considers him, prone on the bed as she slowly walks around it to the other side to secure his other wrist. When she’s done, she steps back once again. “I’m going to touch you now, okay?”

He swallows, starting to look a little desperate. “Yes, Ms. Stark.”

She approaches slowly, dragging her fingers from his wrist towards his shoulder as she climbs onto the bed. Part of her wishes she had a feather, or something, but decides they can use that next time.

His muscles jump as her fingers brush over his chest and stomach. She skips over his hardening dick to run her fingernails down his thigh. His leg twitches, but he manages to keep it still. She repeats the motions in reverse on his other side before placing her face close to his.

He’s panting a little, just from her touches. It’s thrilling, how his pupils are blown and how he’s straining just a little against the ties. She presses her lips to his, just once, very quickly, before pulling back. She's gratified when he tries to chase her mouth. “I know we’ve only been dating for six months, but I realized there’s some things we haven’t done. Like oral.”

He looks a little confused. “What do you mean? I went down on you last night.”

She hums, wetting her lips. “But I haven’t gone down on you.”

It’s been something she’s struggled with wanting to do, and he knows it. It reminds her of times where she wasn't entirely in charge of her sexuality. He’s told her he doesn’t care, and she trusted him, but it’s still refreshing to see the conflict on his face. “Sansa, I don’t want you doing something you’re not comfortable with. This is for you.”

“I know.” She nods once, decisive, before wrapping her lips around the erection she no longer wants to ignore. There’s just something about seeing him like this that has her wanting to try.

He makes a choking noise, and she pulls back to see if he’s okay. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he shakes his head, voice hoarse, “not at all.”

“No, what?”

“No, Ms. Stark.”

She smiles at him, before leaning down once more.

His dick is very big. He’s a big man, so she’d be surprised if it wasn’t, but this is the first time she’s been this close to it, when it's not in her hand or inside her, and she’s impressed. She’s surprised, even, that he claims she’s his first girlfriend, because she can’t imagine any woman just being satisfied with sleeping with him once.

Okay, so yes, he might not be  _ conventionally  _ attractive, with the scars covering half his face and a perpetual scowl, but still. She can’t be the only one. But she will be the last, if she has any say in the matter.

He tastes salty in a way she wasn’t expecting, but it’s not a bad taste. In fact, she’s enjoying herself, enjoying the sounds he’s making and the tension she can feel in his thighs. He seems to like it best when she works the base with her hand and sucks at the tip, tongue moving against the slit.

“I’m going to come,” he gasps, as she reaches down and tugs on his balls a little.

She’s not entirely sure how well she would be able to swallow, though, so she pulls back just in time for his stomach to catch the most of it. He’s panting as she takes one of the discarded sheets off the floor and cleans him up. “Was it good?”

“Little - I mean, yes, Ms. Stark.”

“I’m glad.”

She leans up to kiss him again, and loses track of time in the passion he tries to show her. All the want and desire he has but can’t act on is in the push and pull of his lips and teeth against hers. She’s getting wetter by the minute, and can feel him getting hard again against her thigh.

Moving down, she peppers his chest with kisses, and he groans when she flicks her tongue against a nipple.

“Ms. Stark.”

“Yes?”

His eyes are dark as they meet hers. “I want to touch you.”

She considers him, moving so she’s sitting next to him, and almost lazily dips her fingers down her stomach until she’s rubbing slow circles on her clit over the fabric of her underwear. “Like this?”

“Yes.”

“How else?”

He swallows. “I want to feel your tits.” She cups them, and he nods. “They feel so good in my hands, and the little sounds you make when I’m sucking on them? You don’t sing any sweeter songs than that.”

She flicks one of her nipples. “Not even when you’re inside me?”

He groans. “One sweeter song, then. By the Stranger I love being inside you. You’re so tight and warm, it’s like heaven. Especially when you’re coming on my dick. I want to touch you, so I can show you. I want to make you so wet you ruin your little panties.”

She’s already so wet she can feel herself dripping, so she dips her fingers in under the fabric to show him. Holding her hand out to him, his lips catch them as he licks the juices off like he’s dying of thirst.

“Please,” he croaks out, when he’s done.

She’s panting harshly as she almost loses her balance, getting off the bed to take her underwear and corset off and then getting back on, throwing her leg over him so she’s straddling him. If she wasn’t so desperate, she would try and tease him more, but his voice is her breaking point and she wants to weep with relief as she sinks down on him.

She finds a rhythm very quickly, his dick filling her up in the best of ways and desperation fueling her every move. He tries to help, balancing his feet on the bed to match her movements more easily. She leans forward with one hand on his chest, as her other fingers find her clit and press down hard. She cries out his name as her hips stutter and her brain shorts out with pleasure.

As she comes back down, she distantly hears the snapping of fabric. In record time he manages to get her on her back and thrust into her like she knows he’s been dying to, and she can’t even complain. Her eyes fly open and meet his, a feral glint hiding behind them.

She manages two more orgasms as he pounds her into the mattress, wave after wave of relentless pleasure brought on by his hands gripping her hips and thighs like he can’t get enough, teeth and lips at her neck and breasts, until he finally grunts out his own release in her ear.

He collapses sideways to catch his breath, as she rolls over to him.

“Sorry,” he offers.

“You don’t sound sorry.”

He snorts. “You’re right. Still.”

Her eyelids are drooping as she snuggles further against him, relishing in the way his arms wrap around her. “Hey, Sandor?”

“Yeah, little bird?”

She presses a kiss to his pec. “Thanks for the best birthday ever. I love you.”

His voice is rough with sleep, but he still manages to say, “Love you, too.”

The last thing she can think before she drifts off is that she can’t wait for all the other ones they’re going to get to share together. She's sure they'll all be just as good.


End file.
